


Missing the Train

by calrissian18



Series: The Cages We Build [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Infidelity, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to '<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/577805">Out of Reach</a>.'  Oh the cages we build.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing the Train

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to [Out of Reach](http://archiveofourown.org/works/577805), which should be read first, though this _can_ stand on its own.
> 
> Though I originally touted this possible sequel as being the 'fluffy ending' to the fluff(-turned-angst) piece I meant to write in Out of Reach - I only managed to darken things up further. If you are looking for that happy ending, you should leave off with Out of Reach and imagine some riding-off-into-the-sunset type ending yourself as I am not going to provide one here.

 

Draco stood in the center of the gray room, the burgundy curtains half hung, the heavy dust scarred by a bright wood floor and the cheery wallpaper only partly torn away and limp in its disapproval. It was as though some behemoth had dragged its claws through and hollowed out its happy insides.  
  
Viktor approached with apprehension as the blond turned away from the window, head hung low but facing him. His arms were hugging themselves tightly as the thumb and middle finger of his left hand chipped away at one another. He looked up suddenly.  
  
“I don’t need all this.” His voice was soft and his lower lip was turning a dark maroon where his teeth indented it.  
  
It made Viktor’s heart thump harder to see the color change. With a push off the doorframe, he joined Draco in his uncertainty. The barren wasteland faded to nothingness and he concentrated solely on the single bloom in its middle. The unspoken words of Draco’s declaration were heavy and static in the air around them as if he’d throw back his head and shouted them to the ceiling.  
  
 _I don’t need all this **to stay**_.  
  
Grey eyes bore deep into his own dark irises, searching out his gaze and analyzing everything that ran through it. He brought his clumsy hands up to close around the light fabric covering Draco’s biceps, conveying his own silent message: _I need all this to feel worthy of keeping you_.  
  
A pause lingered between them before pale arms came up to hook around his neck, Draco all but sinking into his chest, and for a moment all Viktor could do was stare at the bounty he held in his arms, a burst of pride hitting so hard he almost felt he would rip apart with it. Because this man had chosen _him_.  
  
The thought made his throat tight and it was a moment before he could make his voice say, “Ve’ll take it.” The plump real estate agent behind them clapped her hands and beamed as she rattled off the relevant information, interposed with bursts of, ‘I knew you’d love it,’ and ‘oh, isn’t it wonderful’ and ‘just on the market’ but Viktor couldn’t bring himself to care because Draco was smiling ever so slightly and Viktor knew he had done good.  
  


♕

  
The steady, cadenced beats of Draco’s heart thrummed resiliently against the pads of his fingertips as he slept the night away and Viktor felt with a sudden certainty that everything he was had somehow become trapped in between those momentary lulls. The hot breath of his companion bloomed across his shoulder before budding and leaving a chill in its wake. Usually just the sight of Draco was enough to inspire still waters in him but tonight he was restless, watching the rise and fall of Draco’s smooth chest as if it were a particularly puzzling attraction.  
  
He sat up, swinging his legs over his side of the bed and felt the cold bite at his toes instantly. This mansion he had bought for Draco—an elaborate cage for a tamed animal, some dark voice whispered inside him—rivaled even the manor in size and he knew there was no lack of space for him to spread his wings but he couldn’t bring himself to take even a step away.  
  
He pressed his palm into the new mattress, testing out the springiness with his hand, and felt a wretched glee to be rid of the old one—the one that had soaked up the cries of ‘Potter’ as Draco pounded into him or, worse yet, reveled in his whispered sigh of ‘Harry’ as their roles reversed. He had felt it late at night as he laid on its surface, the heaviness of its judgment and recrimination rotting beneath him, the sly, haunting voice that would hiss in his ear during those dead hours that he was a talentless lover whose partner had to picture another man just to climax.  
  
It had been a month ago now that he’d last heard that hated name but Viktor knew it was only that Draco had learned to suppress it, not that he’d stopped thinking it. His eyes would always close when they made love, his face twisted away, his mouth bent into a frown and his mind conjuring images of another chest, another face, another person. He could still remember the first night it had happened, their first night together.  
  
A dam had broken inside of him as he found his release in Draco’s glorious heat. The realization that for the first time since his mother’s death, since he’d been left alone in this world, he didn’t feel empty had hit him hard between the ribs and crumpled him completely. It had dragged through him, shattering his defenses, leaving him aching. He had never been so vulnerable as he was in that moment, his limbs trembling so hard the muscles started to burn, when Draco turned his head and whispered on a sigh, “Harry.”  
  
More than just a part of him had died a quiet death in that word.  
  
He could remember the agony in his side, the one that made him feel as if his insides were revolting, like the pain was still fresh. He had doubled over, bringing his knees up to his chest and faced away from his tormenter. It was as if he’d taken a Bludger to the stomach and it had sunk deep into his gut.  
  
He cursed himself as a noisy sob tore from his throat and he heard the rustle of sheets behind him as Draco sat up and, after a slight pause, reminded with a sneer, “You asked for this.”  
  
Viktor laughed, choking on tears, his voice hoarse and more than a bit mad. “I know vot I did, Draco Malfoy.” His shoulders quaked and his harsh words seemed to cow the other man but he made no move to touch or comfort him in any way and Viktor told himself he had not expected either. More rustling met his ears from the other side of the bed and he cried silent tears as he realized Draco was leaving the room, him, entirely—perhaps for good—and all he could do was weep bitterly at the loss.  
  
Sometime during the night he rolled over to find the blond still there, curled up opposite him with his fingers bent up under his cheek, his breathing shallow and his face soft in the moonlight.  
  
Viktor knew then and there that there was nothing to be done for it, he could never walk away—his stomach clenched horribly at just the thought—and he would do all he could to make Draco feel the same.  
  
At first it had been a constant—and losing—battle to love a man who would never love him in return and the palpable despair often left him cold and empty. However, with the discovery that while Draco may never love him, neither was he trying to turn him into the man he did love came a great lightening of the burden. He had not even recognized in himself how deep the desire ran for Draco to feel that same wealth of emotion towards him until the blond remarked offhandedly one morning as they ate breakfast with his parents, “Your accent seems to be fading.” He frowned. “I thought that took years to stave off?”  
  
It was then that he realized he was subconsciously suffocating it. His cheeks had burned hot and he’d stared down at his plate, gripping his fork tightly as he swallowed. “I thought you did not like to hear it,” he managed carefully while Draco stared at him unblinkingly. Had the blond’s parents not been present, he would have felt no shame in adding, “Is it not easier for you to pretend?”  
  
He could tell from the blond’s wide eyes, however, that there was no need for the blunt phrasing. The rest of the meal passed in tense silence and Draco waited until his parents had retired to their own dealings before he grabbed Viktor by the hand and dragged him away into the kitchens. A distracted scowl from the Malfoy heir was enough to send the house-elves fleeing and his grey eyes blazed as he turned the same look on Viktor.  
  
He shoved the larger man up against the counter with surprising strength. “I have _never_ asked you to become him.”  
  
“I did not think it should come to that,” Viktor agreed uncertainly. “I knew wot you wanted.” He pronounced the ‘Ws’ carefully as he had done for the past fortnight.  
  
Draco’s fury deflated and a tired thumb brushed lightly over the skin beneath Viktor’s eye, sending a powerful shiver of want down his spine. He strove to explain that even such a thoughtless touch was better than the best fucking with anyone else, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was a hastily blurted, “I love you.” He had tried hardest to make those words carry no trace of who was speaking them.  
  
“Hush,” Draco shushed him with a reassuring smile. “You may know more than most but clearly you don’t know everything about me, to be so far off the mark.” He kissed the corner of Viktor’s mouth and Viktor helplessly followed as he pulled away but Draco gently held him at bay. He pressed his hand lightly to Viktor’s forearm and it reminded him of the careful pressure he had applied at his professor’s wake, a touch that had haunted him for days after.  
  
Even the slightest physical attention from Draco seemed to have that effect.  
  
“I have never wanted you to be anyone else, Viktor.” His eyes dazzled and the glint of his teeth was exquisite in the brightness of the mid-morning sun. “I meant what I said, I am lucky to have met you and I am grateful for it every day. I genuinely _like_ you, Viktor, and if anything happened to make you disappear—worse yet, if I somehow implied that that was what I wanted—I’d never forgive myself.”  
  
Half-formed ideas of swallowing his pride and purchasing Potter-Imitation Glasses ™ or thieving a Gryffindor uniform from Hogwarts, even garnering a hair for a dreaded Polyjuice potion, melted away into nothingness and Viktor felt himself breathe freely again. He had not even realized how much those thoughts had constricted his lungs until he was rid of them.  
  
He drew Draco into his arms and buried his face in the forgiving skin of his neck. “You didn’t say—but I thought you vanted…”  
  
Draco shook his head and pulled back only long enough to look up at him, his eyes crinkled at the sides as he said in quiet happiness, “You sound more like yourself.”  
  
Viktor kissed him.  
  
Eventually the conclusion Lucius Malfoy had drawn became inescapable and Viktor was seized by the idea that they had to leave England if they ever wanted peace. And while Draco had seemed complacent to stay and had made no overtures about Potter or anything that could even be interpreted as general interest—apart from his late night fantasies—Viktor was sure to go mad if they remained.  
  
When he had suggested the move to Draco, the man had been reticent at first but then pressed his palm to Viktor’s bare chest as they lay side by side in bed and said seriously in a voice that seemed to impress more to himself, “This is what you need.”  
  
Viktor had nodded hesitantly anyway and Draco’s mouth quirked in soft amusement, the true affection in his gaze that always took Viktor’s breath away. He settled himself in Viktor’s arms, the way he knew Viktor loved, and sighed. “Where you go, I’ll follow.”  
  
When he’d finally settled on a place, Draco had only perked a blond brow and mentioned idly that Viktor hadn’t needed to test the limits of that statement. True Sevastopol was quite a far cry from the hustle and bustle of London and even farther from the quiet countryside of Wiltshire but Viktor couldn’t be moved. He had only taken Draco’s hands in his and kissed his knuckles with an unspoken plea. Draco had gazed at him uncertainly but acquiesced nonetheless.  
  
They had walked down the ul. Lenina and back up the Bolshoya Morskaya with Draco’s arm slung through his and the blond had shocked him back by asking questions of the shopkeepers in accented Russian. He had shrugged it off, saying, “My grandfather taught me a bit. He had Russian ventures in Izhevsk and he would get blotto with his business partners and sound out the words for me.”  
  
Thankfully, Ukranian seemed to be scarce on the ground as neither of them spoke a lick of it—though they soon realized it bore a great resemblance to Russian, which the both of them had at least a rudimentary understanding of. Viktor sounded more native but Draco had better comprehension. The locals certainly didn’t seem to consider themselves Ukranian as all the placards and tours told their history from the perspective of the Russians.  
  
When Viktor mentioned this, Draco only commented dryly, “I think it’s the massive amounts of vodka that give away their true loyalties,” which prompted a barking laugh that he quickly hushed up due to the glare of the other patrons in the Panorama.  
  
They had ended their day with a leisurely stroll along the coast and Draco had leaned his head against his shoulder and said suddenly, “It’s unnavigable, you realize? Without Apparition we’d be stuck on those ghastly marshrutkas.” Viktor glanced down at him apprehensively and Draco reassured after a moment, “But it’s beautiful, Viktor, really.”  
  
And it was in a way that couldn’t be denied. Fit for a king, to say the least, which meant it came close to measuring up to Draco.  
  
The tail end of August had brought with it a coolness that rolled off the waves crashing in and Viktor pulled Draco tighter to him. The blond man kicked up white sand with his bare feet and looked around at the inlet city speculatively, streetlights twinkling back at him. “It’s like a living, breathing museum,” he said softly. He turned to face Viktor, his expression careful and determined. “I want to live here with you.”  
  
They had begun looking at properties almost immediately. Draco allowed Viktor to take the reins and only walked around at his side and admired the view that presented itself all around them. He looked happy and Viktor let that thought warm him all the way down to his toes.  
  
After a week, Viktor was arse-tired of house hunting and Draco drew him away to explore. He Apparated them to Zmiyinyy and Viktor found out what the blond had been doing the few times he’d broken away from the searching extravaganza as he offered him a broom. “I used enchantments on the perimeter to keep the Muggles away,” he explained as he threw a long leg over his own mount. Viktor looked uncertainly around at the open field and Draco smiled. “I thought of that, too,” he boasted as he shot a Disillusionment charm at the both of them.  
  
The air whipped cold through his hair and the soaring feeling took hold in his gut before rocketing up to his throat. It had been over a year since he’d last been on a broom and he hadn’t even realized he missed it until that moment. He had left the mantle of professional Quidditch player behind for Draco without a second thought and never once regretted it… but he did miss it.  
  
They landed side by side nearly two hours later and Viktor couldn’t hold back his appreciation as he took Draco right there in the middle of the field.  
  
Draco’s laugh had been bright and happy in the aftermath and when Viktor finally managed to pull on his pants, the blond grabbed his hand with a grin and started tugging. “We’re going to miss it!”  
  
Viktor discovered that Draco had arranged a Floo for them that opened up in Lvov and they spent the rest of the day touring the city so Draco could solve the 100-foot high crossword puzzle before nightfall when the glowing letters would fill in the seeming blanks.  
  
Wandering the city with Draco while he harassed the natives into giving him answers, stopping off for borsch and chips in a dinky tavern and making love in an empty room in the opera house had easily brought about the best day he had ever experienced and by the end of it, as they watched the letters shimmer into existence under the hole-punched sky, he had fallen even harder for the man he held in his arms.  
  
He had found their new home not two days later and had known instantly that it was what he wanted to give Draco in repayment for everything the blond gave him. It was the most he had ever dug into his wealth, due almost entirely to the fact that he still had a poor man’s mindset but, for him, it was worth every Galleon to see the look of awe on Draco’s face.  
  
“You’re awake,” he heard Draco’s sleepy voice behind him and his tensed shoulders relaxed instantly. “New house jitters?”  
  
Viktor shook his head and turned around, sliding his callused hand over Draco’s neck. “Thinking.”  
  
“Mmm, anything interesting?” Draco asked, his eyelids looking heavy and already beginning to shutter.  
  
“How happy I am you are here vith me,” Viktor admitted, closing his own eyes against Draco’s neck. Hands slid up his back and Viktor let out a contented sound that resembled a purr.  
  
“I’m happy too,” Draco said, but there was no conviction in his eyes and Viktor pressed his mouth to the blond’s so he would close them.  
  


♕

  
Viktor bit off his gloves and offered a gruff goodbye to Yevgeny, earning a nod in return. He gave one last tug on the rigging, his fingers already protesting against the coarse rub of the rope, before he bundled himself up in his worn overcoat. The air had gotten remarkably colder as the day wore on and it blasted off the sea waves. He cursed himself for not listening when Draco had said he needed a heavier winter jacket.  
  
He waved off Jakiv and Yaroslaw’s wolf-whistles as he walked up the plank and turned, his hand shading his eyes, to stare at the rusting bucket of the Санкт-Мариночка. He couldn't help his grin as he watched it bob on the angry waves. The ship was tired but a hard-arse nonetheless, just like all the men who worked on her.  
  
They were good blokes who got an endless source of amusement in Viktor's lovestruck face when he arrived each morning and he was teased mercilessly for it. After actually meeting Draco, the taunts had only gotten more accurate and he couldn't help but blush under the hail of them, which only invited more ribbing.  
  
Yevgeny had pulled him aside shortly after he'd started and told him that they wouldn't tease him if they didn't like him and all had been well after that. It helped that looking out for him was almost second nature and Viktor was pleased that he seemed to fit in so well among these sea-hardened men. It was hardly his dream job, shuttling tourists around the coastline in the rickety old girl, but he did like it immensely. It was extraordinarily hard work and he enjoyed the sea salty air, the dry bite of it in the summer and even the permeating chill in the winter.  
  
It warmed the further into the city he walked, it being only November yet, and he decided he had time before he would positively freeze to death in his current clothing. Besides, the company closed down completely for the month of January.  
  
He turned down a side street and broke out into a small square where bright blond hair glinted at him in the sunlight. He grinned and took off at a sprint, coming up behind Draco, pulling down his scarf and pressing his cold lips to the back of the blond’s warm neck.  
  
The blond straightened and picked himself up off the wrought iron gate as he whacked him without heat and smiled. “You cretin,” he sniffed.  
  
Viktor rubbed his cold nose under Draco’s chin and pressed messy kisses to his neck while Draco tried to hold him back. “You bastard,” he cried, “you’re making me cold.”  
  
Viktor’s only response was to press his whole face to Draco’s neck and hold him tightly as he pushed him up against the gate, the shade of the Vladimir cathedral thankfully on the other side of the edifice. “You could go in, you know,” Viktor told him as he dragged his lips over Draco’s jaw.  
  
Draco pulled him closer with a groan, his hand reaching behind Viktor’s neck, and shook his head. “I’m not here to worship.”  
  
Viktor knew this well as he had never yet been able to convince Draco to come with him when he attended mass each Sunday, a tradition his mother had started halfheartedly when he was a young boy that had fallen off completely when he’d gone away to school. It was only recently that he had picked up the reins of his faith once again. He had even tried to tempt Draco with the massive St. Andrews cathedral in Kiev but, while Draco had marveled at the sight, Viktor still hadn’t been able to get him inside.  
  
He knew Draco liked the quieter Vladimir anyway, which contributed to the massive amounts of time he spent outside it. Viktor often found him lingering there as he was wont to do on the four days a week he did not work at the Sevastopol Potions Laboratory and Research Facility. Where, despite all the odds, the old crones who dallied around the halls and ran the assignments had taken a liking to him and his aristocratic Russian, which Viktor was thoroughly glad of.  
  
He turned his face into Draco’s cheek and asked finally, “Then vy are you here?”  
  
Draco closed his eyes and squeezed the hands wrapped around his middle tightly. “You don’t feel that?” He didn’t wait for Viktor to respond before he answered, “There’s a peace here that you can’t really get anywhere else in the city.”  
  
They leaned against the gate in silence before Viktor said suddenly, “I knew a man named Vladimir in Bulgaria, you know?” Draco scarcely glanced at him, his eye just barely opening. Viktor grinned. “He used to sell us Toady Ale under the table so ve could sneak it into Durmstrang, that is until the authorities found him up to nasty doings vith a pig sounder.”  
  
Draco’s head whipped around in surprise and he gasped even as a huge grin broke out across his face. He shoved Viktor brightly and accused, “You lie!”  
  
Viktor caught the hand before it could retreat, pulling Draco close, and shook his head even as he leaned in to taste the smile on the other man’s lips. As he felt the joyful twist of Draco’s mouth under his own, he knew that this moment was all he needed and he could live off its merits alone for years.  
  


♕

  
They had barely been living in the house four months before he heard a determined voice announce behind him, “We’ve yet to christen the bed.”  
  
That wasn’t to say they hadn’t had sex, the library, the kitchen, the dining table, and many other places could attest to that… but never the bed. Viktor wasn’t sure he could stand it if this mattress learned the same secrets as the last. He turned around to tell Draco as much, which was his umpteenth mistake.  
  
The blond was raised up on his knees in the middle of the bed with only black pajama pants to his name, his legs spread wide and his expression beckoning and seductive.  
  
He was painfully handsome and Viktor all but fell onto his lips, his knees buckling as he crumbled onto the bed. Draco lifted his face into his hands and pressed his mouth to Viktor’s, his tongue insistent between his lips which was followed by the devastating slide of slick muscle against his own—a feeling that never failed to make his heart beat faster. “We’re together, Viktor,” a light kiss against his upper lip followed this declaration, “if you want me,” Draco’s thighs framed his hips, “have me.”  
  
He scrambled to meet Draco’s thrusts as a hand closed on his arse and pulled him closer. His face scrunched up in effort as the glorious slide of heat blossomed between them. He tried to lose himself in the primal act but the word ‘together’ wouldn’t leave him. It was never ‘you’re my lover’, ‘partner’ or even ‘boyfriend’. Not even those simple terms of endearment had ever graced Draco’s lips. It was always ‘together’.  
  
He drew back and pulled at Draco’s bottoms while the blond simply Vanished Viktor’s clothes, as he always did. They fell back on the bed and Draco shivered as Viktor’s hand moved up his thigh. He pressed his mouth to the curve of Draco’s armpit and bit down. “I luff you,” he growled.  
  
“I know,” Draco breathed back as he twisted under him and Viktor took his lips in a fierce kiss while Draco fumbled with the lubrication they kept in the second drawer. He spread it on his own fingers liberally and then reached down between them.  
  
Viktor watched with quiet hunger as the blond speared himself on his own fingers, the other hand gripping his shoulder tightly for balance as he impaled himself. He placed his own over Draco’s grasping hand and dug the nails in further. “Mark me, Draco,” he ordered with a snarl and the blond cried out as the fingers drove in deeper on both hands.  
  
He leaned down and Draco momentarily slowed as he took the blond’s lower lip in between his teeth and worried it gently while he dragged the sticky head of his cock torturously over Draco’s naked thigh. The blond groaned and groaned as Viktor splayed him wide and pushed up against the back of his hand in time with Draco’s thrusting fingers.  
  
“Oh god—oh fuck—” Draco choked, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Need you, need more. Viktor, _please_ ,” he whimpered desperately as Viktor teased him mercilessly.  
  
Viktor’s pupils blew as he heard the words and a raw, almost animalistic need took him over completely. He was already breathless and panting just from watching Draco pleasure himself and he hoped he wouldn’t come too soon. It only ever made Draco smile but it made him feel like his lover was justified in wanting another. He sank deep inside Draco with a heady groan and panted out, “I’ve vanted—”  
  
“You should’ve,” was Draco’s only answer as he clenched his thighs tight around Viktor’s and pushed back into his hips.  
  
“Don’t,” Viktor pleaded, open desperation on his face, “I can’t—I von’t be able to…”  
  
Draco only grinned widely and began to rotate his hips slowly around Viktor’s prick. He pulled Viktor down by his neck and licked the sweat off his skin before he huffed into his ear, “Your accent gets so much thicker when you’re aroused. You really have no idea how fucking sexy you sound.”  
  
Viktor closed his eyes and moaned loudly, his cock was so hard it hurt and he was not sure he had ever been this turned on in his life but if he moved, he would come and he wanted to make this last. Draco rarely spoke so much when they made love and, when he did, it certainly was not about him. “Do you know vot you do to me?” His voice was warbling and tears of appreciation and withholding burned his eyes. “I don’t… vithout you I couldn’t…” he grunted as he ground his hips against Draco’s arse, “Vithout you I’m nothing.”  
  
“Don’t,” Draco garbled when Viktor finally managed to pull out and push back in. He fisted his hair tightly and begged, “Don’t… don’t ever stop.”  
  
Viktor’s eyes darkened at the request and he pounded into Draco as he never had before, hitching the blond’s legs up over his shoulders and vowing, “I von’t, I von’t ever. I promise you, Draco. Never.” He closed his eyes tightly and tears of exertion mingled with sweat rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto Draco’s stomach.  
  
The blond moaned out against his chest when he trapped his cock between them and Viktor slid his hand down from Draco’s knee so that it cupped the front of the blond’s leg while his fingers grazed the inside of his thigh. He writhed and groaned but Viktor showed no mercy as he slowly dragged his hand to the place where thigh met groin.  
  
“I am alvays thinking of you like this, Draco, desperate and aching under my hand,” he grunted when his fingers finally closed around the throbbing length of Draco’s beautiful prick.  
  
“Viktor,” he groaned, a kittenish whimper following.  
  
“You are alvays the man I am thinking of. Alvays.” His brows had drawn together in seriousness as he pumped Draco with his fist sloppily and slammed himself into his arse over and over again as hard as his muscles would allow.  
  
Draco pulled him close and panted in his ear as he spilled hot over Viktor’s fingers and Viktor swore as the feeling of his lover’s release made him explode into his own with a hiss and an awe-filled moan of, “Draco.”  
  
He collapsed on top of the other man, his arms trembling too hard to hold him and sore all the way down to his toes. To his surprise, Draco held him tightly and let his hands explore Viktor’s sweat-slick back curiously.  
  
Eventually, when he felt able to move again, he shifted onto his back and was nearly shocked stupid when Draco followed him. It wasn’t like him to be… close after they’d finished. He turned onto his side to face him and found Draco in the same position.  
  
Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arm around Draco’s waist and pulled their bodies flush. He expected Draco to shimmy away but the blond only shut his eyes and let out a content sound through his nose. “Viktor,” he whispered on a breath.  
  
Viktor instantly jolted into the most awake state he had ever reached. Draco had said his name. Draco. had said. _his_ name. In his moment of post-coital bliss and when his defenses were at their lowest, he had not said that ugly word but, no, Viktor’s own _name_.  
  
Draco looked up at him through white-blond lashes with a serene expression on his face. “You’re so handsome when you smile like that, Viktor. I like the ones that really reach your eyes.”  
  
Viktor was stunned; he hadn’t even known Draco cared enough to notice. His words stumbled over themselves in his haste to say them. “Marry me.”  
  
Draco froze. “What?”  
  
“Marry me. I vant you to marry me.” He was sure he was going about this all wrong and, certainly, when he’d imagined it in passing—only _in passing_ because he didn’t think there would ever be much point in saying the words aloud—it hadn’t even minutely resembled this moment. He hadn’t even bought a ring, knowing he’d feel the fool even more if he carried around something he never intended to put to use. He hoped Draco wouldn’t care that he’d done this in all the wrong order because, he knew now, that his invented proposal was completely off the mark. It had to be now because now he couldn’t imagine _not_ asking.  
  
“Viktor, we’ve only just moved in together—” Draco hedged desperately.  
  
“Ve haff been dating for three years,” he countered. “I can’t… there is novone else.”  
  
Draco twisted Viktor’s hand up in his uncertainly and brushed his lips against an errant finger. “Give me time.” His eyes were pleading and so Viktor did.  
  


♕

  
Draco made him wait two hundred and thirty-seven days before he got an answer.  
  
Viktor was in the middle of telling him a story about an oblivious tourist from the Continent when Draco set his fork down gently, rested his chin in the hammock of his hands, stared straight into Viktor’s eyes and said simply, “Yes.”  
  
Viktor’s back went ramrod straight as his entire body seemed to pause with the word. It took a moment for his brain to unfreeze before it started chirping wildly. Viktor tried to stop the sudden and frantic beating of his heart because surely he couldn’t mean…? He had almost convinced himself to forget the incident entirely and now…  
  
A feeble, “Vot,” was all he could manage.  
  
“I said yes,” Draco answered calmly, taking a sip of his wine.  
  
“Yes?” Viktor parroted weakly, feeling lightheaded.  
  
Draco stood up and Viktor pushed out his chair wondering if he should stand as well when the blond reached him and sank into his lap, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s neck. “Yes, I want to marry you.” His breath tickled Viktor’s lips before Draco sealed their fate with his kiss.  
  


♕

  
The ceremony was something of a dream, white lisianthus and narcissus blooms smiling at him from the aisle and candelabras offering the perfect glow. Viktor had originally chose the lisianthus—his mother’s favorite—and lilies but Draco had calmly strode in and spelled them all into narcissus flowers without a word of explanation.  
  
Considering how hastily the arrangements had been made, the wedding held only two months after the acceptance—the delay due only to allowing their friends time to arrange the travel, it had been something of a miracle that it had pulled together as well as it did. He could still remember coming home and telling Draco that thanks to his charming fiancé (literal in this case, vis-à-vis his well-placed Confundus charm) the Vladimir cathedral had a slot conveniently open for the sixteenth of July.  
  
Draco had smiled so openly and sincerely that the strength of it had been almost crippling. Viktor knew he had missed his time outside the familiar gate as he had gradually taken on more and more responsibilities at the lab and as a result had been able to visit less and less often. That one little smile had hit him somewhere between the ribs and stuck there ever since.  
  
Viktor was pleased they had waited when he saw how happy it made his husband-to-be that his parents and friends were in attendance. Now that the transformation was complete, from fiancé to Handfasted husband, Viktor couldn’t find hide nor hair of his lover and he was beginning to fear the worst.  
  
Cold dread punched its way up his throat and he set down his drink just as the intimidating figure of Malfoy, Sr., appeared before him. “Congratulations,” he murmured as he held out a hand to shake Viktor’s. He held on a moment too long before he pressed painfully on Viktor’s ring with his thumb as if trying to imprint it into his flesh. “Hurt my son and the Aurors will have quite the scavenger hunt trying to find all the peices,” his tone was the same calm anyone else would use to discuss the weather but his eyes were _violent_ in their intensity.  
  
Viktor ripped his hand out of the Malfoy patriarch’s grip and said coldly, “I am thinking ve both know the likelihood that it is _I_ that vill break _Draco’s_ heart.”  
  
Malfoy’s eyes lost their hard edge and he smiled a sharp smile at him. “I suppose we do,” he said, and the words were almost mocking. He offered him a curt nod and disappeared into the general rabble before him. Viktor shook his head to clear it and waited until no one was paying him any mind before slipping away from the reception, the blind panic welling up inside him painfully.  
  
If he had pushed too hard and lost Draco he would never forgive himself.  
  
He methodically checked each room, silently cursing himself and trying to fight back the sting in his eyes. Finally, as he opened the door in which Draco changed, he found a blond heap collapsed on the settee, head in hand. His jaw tightened and he fought the sudden urge to rip the ring from his finger and throw it at Draco’s feet.  
  
“You regret this.” His voice was shaking.  
  
Draco’s head snapped up even as he recoiled, whether from the bitterness in Viktor’s tone or the force of his anger, he didn’t know. He stood quickly and was closing the distance between them when Viktor shut the door behind him and backed up against it to counteract their nearness. The desperation had quelled, but now he could barely feel anything, his head fuzzy and his hands numb.  
  
Draco cleared his throat and offered the olive branch, “The ring is gorgeous.” White gold and ringed with delicate hawthorn leaves with the inscription: _Another source of power_. His eyes were red and his voice was scratchy. It was obvious he had been crying.  
  
Viktor wanted to scream at him that no one had forced his hand, no one had made him say yes. “If you do not like it you do not haff to vear it,” he said stiffly as Draco fiddled with it. He turned to leave and make their excuses when Draco grabbed his forearm.  
  
“No, Viktor, it’s not what you think,” Draco cried, his eyes entreating him to believe it.  
  
He turned back despite himself and Draco smiled tightly at him. It didn’t reach his eyes.  
  
“This isn’t to do with you.” He sniffed. “I could never regret you,” he told him without guile and the words were warming and exactly what he needed to hear.  
  
“Then vot?” he asked softly as he held Draco close.  
  
Draco shook his head, looking lost and childlike. He pulled away from him and said vehemently, “You—You don’t deserve this, Viktor. You could do so much better, you could have something amazing.” Draco’s smile became self-deprecating, his eyes still dead with it. “I’m afraid what I did today just ruined the rest of your life.”  
  
Viktor’s chest was heaving and he could barely articulate his words for the rage tearing through him. He hauled Draco close by his biceps, gripping hard. “Enough,” he snarled, his eyes blazing. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this angry. “Do not ever say anything like that again. I vill not let anyvone disparage you, not even you. I luff you.” He gestured behind him and his words took on an almost maniac edge, “Can you really not know vot this meant to me?”  
  
Draco blinked and Viktor released him, worrying his lower lip.  
  
“You need not run my life, Draco Malfoy, because not only vould you do it _wrong_ but I am the vone in charge of it.” He drew himself up and defended hotly, honestly, “And I think I am doing a good job because today I married the man of my dreams.”  
  
Draco’s eyes were wet when he could finally bring himself to meet Viktor’s gaze and Viktor immediately felt guilty. He was opening his mouth to apologize when Draco’s hands framed his face and he said so sincerely that Viktor could _see_ it in his eyes, “I love you.”  
  
He launched himself at Draco’s mouth and even though he knew Draco didn’t mean it the way he did when he said the words—the unspoken ‘in’ would never be present there—it was still so much more than he had ever dared to hope for.  
  
They made love twice in that little room and Viktor felt confident in saying that his wedding day was one of the happiest of his life.

♕

Their new routine did not bear all that much difference from what had preceded it and, though Viktor had feared their intimacy would decrease with commitment, the exact opposite had proven true. There wasn’t a day that slipped by without Draco pinning him somewhere and making his head spin, whispering the things that _his husband_ was going to do him. Which, it turned out, Viktor happened to have a great kink for, just hearing the word from Draco’s lips was enough to make him painfully hard.  
  
He tried not to define Draco’s new and very welcome insatiableness in terms of surrender but the thought kept coming back to him. He had suffered the defeat of marriage and now there was no point in further resistance. His greatest fear was that this was his husband’s mindset.  
  
Despite those few worming doubts—which Viktor was sure would be stamped flat with time, they had never been better together. Draco’s smiles met his eyes easily—Viktor ignored the voice that instantly hissed, _because he’s surrendered to you_ —and they seemed genuinely happy with one another.  
  
Only days before, Draco had brought him lunch down by the port and, with a laugh, claimed the warmer weather rather than the company had entreated him in. He had been sitting up on one of the railing posts and Viktor had been leaning forward to lick sauce off his lower lip when one of the women leaving the tour had said loud enough to carry, “Perfect couples are so obnoxious.”  
  
Viktor had felt such a flash of pleased pride that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from planting a very wet kiss on Draco’s cheek and laughing, “Ve are obnoxious.”  
  
Draco had pushed his face away and stuck his tongue out at him. “Well, I never had any doubts about _you_.”  
  
Things had been good, better than he had thought even possible for them, and he was tentatively beginning to believe that he could actually _be_ this happy. At least until he came home months later to find Draco standing at the kitchen counter looking completely broken.  
  
Viktor didn’t think he’d ever been so scared in his entire life.  
  
He pulled Draco to the kitchen floor and rocked him in his arms. After hours of prodding, consoling and pleading, Draco finally said the one word that he never wanted to hear as long as he lived, the word that could shatter everything they’d built.  
  
He fell back as if he’d taken a blow. “No,” he said stupidly. “No,” he reiterated, flat out refusing to believe it, while his voice rose argumentatively, “Not here.”  
  
Draco’s voice was curiously flat, almost devoid of emotion. “Auror case,” he said blankly. “British citizen was killed near the cathedral, they’re investigating with the locals. He was poisoned, Potter came by the lab today to—”  
  
“No!”  
  
Viktor scrambled away from him, shaking his head in disbelief. “I—I von’t let it be true!”  
  
Draco gave a tinny laugh. “You can’t change reality, Viktor.” He stared down at his hands desolately and Viktor took them in his own.  
  
“Draco,” he said softly and the blond looked up at him helplessly. Viktor tucked a strand of golden hair behind his ear. “Are you all right?”  
  
“I don’t know.” He almost chuckled it; it was not a happy sound. He caught Viktor’s eyes again, looking lost.  
  
Viktor kissed him lightly on the lips and tried to pull him closer but Draco held him at bay. “I can’t, not tonight,” he said, voice hoarse with regret. Viktor backed up, mouth tight, and Draco grabbed for him pleadingly. “Don’t hate me,” he begged.  
  
Draco looked so confused and trusting that Viktor immediately felt ashamed. “Never,” he reassured quickly while Draco smiled halfheartedly at him.  
  


♕

  
Draco didn’t tell him anything about the next week when it came to work, except that he was “cooperating with the British Aurors” on the case. The only reason Viktor _knew_ Potter was still in Sevastopol—still in his husband’s life—was because Draco continued to shy away from his touch. Any day now he expected Draco would ask him to break the bond and he was sure that, when that day came, he would cease to be as well.  
  
It never occurred to him to say no.  
  
Each night that Draco shifted to the other side of the bed without a word, Viktor hated so hard that he thought his insides would burn with it.  
  
It wasn’t until mid-August that Draco kissed him with a light in his eyes that said he wanted more and Viktor breathed a sigh of relief that Potter was gone from their lives once again.  
  
He could only hope it would be his last visit.  
  


♕

  
Viktor was running a bit early, eager to escape Yaroslaw’s insinuating teasing as he tried to guess what had put the large grin on his face that morning. He was just about to round onto the hallway that led to Draco’s office, thinking he should tell the blond that heat was his friend, when a dark mop of hair around the corner stopped him dead in his tracks.  
  
He did a double take and, sure enough, there was Potter, standing there while his husband locked up his office. Draco turned to face him and let out a yelp, dropping his keys. “Potter!”  
  
Draco’s face drained of blood while Potter rubbed the back of his neck and gave him a sheepish look. “Er, hi. I didn’t mean to startle you, I just… well, working with you wasn’t as painful as I thought it’d be,” he said in a rush.  
  
Draco took a deep breath and when he fixed Potter with his gaze once again he looked perfectly in control. He raised a sculpted brow and responded coolly, “And you came here to tell me that four months after the fact? Owls are just as effective, Potter.” Draco picked up his keys and started to move away.  
  
“Wait!” Potter near-shouted and then reddened with embarrassment as Draco turned back. “Well, it’s—the case just closed, guilty on all counts, and I wanted to, I don’t know, take you out for a celebratory drink at the pub or, uh, whatever it is they have here.”  
  
Draco seemed privately amused but shook his head. “I don’t think so, Potter.”  
  
The man looked momentarily shocked before he rose to the occasion. “Why not? We proved we could get along on the case, why can’t we—I don’t know—try for something more? _Friends_ , I mean,” he clarified quickly, doing that near-shouting thing again.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes and Viktor couldn’t believe how calm he seemed. He knew he could never act like that with Draco if the tables were turned. “What on earth would be the point, Potter? We live hundreds of miles away from one another. It’s not worth the effort.”  
  
Potter seemed to be struggling with something before he burst out, “There’s Floo and Apparition and I _do_ think it’s worth the effort. Come out and have one drink with me and I’ll bet I convince you too,” he implored, smiling crookedly.  
  
Draco shook his head once again. “I can’t, Potter. I’m having lunch with my husband.”  
  
“Well, what if you weren’t? I could come back,” Potter countered doggedly, jutting out his chin. Viktor was a bit surprised at Potter’s _lack_ of surprise over his existence. So Draco had talked about him at least. The thought warmed him a bit but it was hardly enough to thaw all the ice.  
  
“Let it go, Potter,” Draco said finally, after contemplating the question, “it’s hardly important.”  
  
Potter looked defiant. “Yeah, well I disagree.”  
  
Draco shrugged. “To each his own,” he said somewhat agreeably before marching off in the opposite direction.  
  


♕

  
Viktor could finally stand it no longer and he all but slammed his fork down. “Haff you been meeting vith him?” he demanded. It had been two months since the conversation he’d overheard outside Draco’s door and many a night had passed where Draco would retreat from his touch.  
  
Draco looked uncomfortable as he always did when they discussed _him_ , which had only opened up as a topic of conversation after Viktor had told him what he’d heard. Draco had assured him it had been the only such exchange that they had had since the case, save for a few innocent owls. He had been up front about everything when asked and when Viktor had finally exploded and half-accused, “Haff you fucked him?”  
  
Draco had only calmly answered, “I would never do that to you.” He pinned Viktor with a gaze that made him feel childish and mean. “Try to think better of me, Viktor,” was all he said.  
  
Draco fidgeted for a moment further but answered nonetheless. “He’s annoyingly persistent.”  
  
“Especially ven he sees something he vants,” Viktor countered bitterly, stabbing his knife into his unfortunate potato victim.  
  
He didn’t notice Draco had stood until a hand was on his chin and he was being pulled out of his chair to join him on the rug. “It’s not like that.” Draco’s eyes implored him to believe those words. He squeezed Viktor’s hands in his. “And even if he wanted it to be, it wouldn’t be. I’m yours, always.” He brushed his thumb over Viktor’s ring. “I promised.”  
  
Viktor pressed his forehead to Draco’s and closed his eyes. “Can you keep that promise?” he asked hoarsely.  
  
Draco paused. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I believe I can and I want you to believe it too.”  
  
Viktor let his lips rest on Draco’s knuckles. “I haff alvays believed the best of you, Draco.” Viktor had no doubt that he would know if he’d been wrong in that belief. For all of Draco’s faults, he had never been anything but honest.  
  
Even so, he couldn’t help but selfishly ask that Draco stop communicating with him altogether and Draco had admirably said that he would.  
  
He tried not to feel guilty when Potter’s owls piled up unanswered.  
  


♕

  
The next time Viktor saw Potter was near the end of April and it was accompanied by a stab of betrayal that lodged itself deep in his gut. Not only was Draco still seeing him but he had brought him to _their_ place, to Vladimir, and for all of a moment Viktor was sure he would never forgive him.  
  
“I listened to what you said, Draco, I did,” Potter was saying in a strained tone but Viktor barely noticed as he was struck painfully by the familiar use of his husband’s first name, “and I tried to stay away for your sake and Ginny’s, hell, even _Viktor’s_.” Potter spat out his name and it was said with a certain amount of incredulity that he had no right to.  
  
Draco wasn’t looking at him and there was something odd in his voice when he asked, “Then why are you here?”  
  
Potter snorted. “What you should be asking is why I ever thought I could leave. I want this, Draco, and I’m willing to fight for it.” He closed his hand around Draco’s but the blond broke away from him.  
  
He was breathing heavy and he still wasn’t looking at Potter. “I told you, I love my husband. I won’t hurt him.”  
  
“But not the way you love _me_ ,” Potter insisted and Viktor felt ill. His green, almond-shaped eyes were burning with confidence. “You’ve never had this level of passion before! You’ve never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as you wanted to kiss me all those months ago, only obligation stopped you and that’s no way to live. Trust me, Draco, I’ve been living with it my entire life.”  
  
“The difference is, Potter,” Draco gritted out, his own eyes ablaze and his breaths coming even harder, “I chose this obligation. The difference is I _didn’t_ kiss you all those months ago.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the cathedral. “Do you know why I was here, why _this_ is where you found me?” And Viktor dared to hope that Potter had not, in fact, been invited and that Draco had been keeping his promises.  
  
Potter shook his head, not looking as if he trusted himself to speak.  
  
“Because this is where I got _married_ , Potter. This is where Viktor Krum became my husband and spouse, where he fucked me after the reception, and where I promised myself to him and only him. I wouldn’t break that promise for anything.” Viktor blinked in surprise and felt a surge of affection for his husband that made him want to run up and wrap his arms around him, consequences be damned.  
  
Potter blinked owlishly at him and swallowed. “Even for the thing you want most in the world?”  
  
For a long while it didn’t look like Draco would answer but then he lifted his arms from the gate and said quietly, “Yes, even for you,” before striding away.  
  
Potter waited until Draco was out of earshot to let out a bellow that hurt to hear, tinged as it was with frustration and sorrow. He kicked the gate as hard as he could and then Disapparated right on the spot.  
  


♕

  
Draco told him of what happened as soon as he got home that night and Viktor took him to bed and made his body sing.  
  


♕

  
Shortly towards the close of June, Draco’s parents hinted that they would have no trouble visiting them in Sevastopol if only they were given a reason and by the second week of July they had cobbled together a weak excuse that they called their ‘Belated Bash’. It was meant to be a housewarming cum engagement party and, considering Viktor and Draco would be celebrating their third wedding anniversary in only a few days time, it was well overdue.  
  
They managed to settle on a day. Viktor had suggested the end of the month, the thirty-first, and Draco had let out an odd sound and immediately offered the second of August. On the night before the invitations were to be sent out, Viktor found himself saying, “Invite him.”  
  
Draco froze licking his parent’s invitation closed and said nothing.  
  
Viktor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It is better than him finding out somehow and forcing somevone else to bring him.”  
  
Draco didn’t answer him that night but the next morning when he came down for breakfast he saw that the letter on the top of the stack was addressed to: _Harry James Potter_.  
  


♕

  
Narcissa was thrilled with the décor and Draco and Viktor and everything in between and Lucius was respectful and almost warm towards him. It left even Viktor wishing they saw them more often. He made a mental note to enquire about connecting a Floo to theirs. He knew that would please Draco to no end and he curled his fingers tighter around his husband’s at the thought.  
  
Potter didn’t arrive until an hour after the festivities began, just as Viktor had started to hope that perhaps he would not put in an appearance at all. He looked supremely uncomfortable and he didn’t last out quite the whole hour before he had sidled over to Draco, who had spent the entire night contritely by his side—which was very unlike him. Viktor supposed it was his way of reassuring him that nothing was happening between him and Potter when it had been _Viktor’s_ idea in the first place to invite him.  
  
He held out a hand for Draco’s and asked somewhat awkwardly, a smidgen shy and a lot nervous—he didn’t glance at Viktor once, “May I have this dance?”  
  
He didn’t wait for an answer before he dragged Draco out onto the floor. Viktor felt something in him snap out of place when Potter’s hands closed around the slender blond. The man was not a very good dancer but Draco didn’t seem to mind if the reassuring smile he gave Potter was any indication.  
  
Potter stared back at his husband with stars in his eyes and the last of Viktor’s false hope bled away.  
  
He spent the rest of the night drinking heavily and pretending not to notice where Draco and Potter were conversing lowly on the other side of the room. It wasn’t until Potter touched Draco’s mouth and his glass exploded in his hand that he thought it might be best if he took his leave.  
  
The party ended not even an hour later and he could hear some of the guests gushing from his silent station in the study as they streamed out the door.  
  
“I need to talk to you.” That was Potter’s voice.  
  
Draco’s sounded annoyed when he answered. “I told you, it was nice of you to accept my invitation but now I need to go and find my husband.”  
  
Something slammed into the study door and Potter’s voice was a lot closer at hand. “God, stop saying that! I fucking _despise_ that word out of your mouth,” he growled dangerously. The wood bowed in and out rhythmically.  
  
He heard Draco moan and then he was rambling desperately. “Potter—oh god—no, _fuck_! I said no, all right? I won’t do this to Viktor, I love him.”  
  
It sounded like Potter’s fist crashed against the door. “The hell you do! I know why you invited me tonight, Draco. You want me to take you away from all this and I will. I swear to you I will.”  
  
Draco sounded indignant. “I invited you tonight because _Viktor_ suggested it. No doubt it was an attempt to ease the guilt he feels for asking me not to contact you.” Viktor blinked, his hand pressed up against the door where Draco’s back was resting on the other side. That _was_ why he had made the offer.  
  
“He should feel guilty for that,” Potter said unrepentantly. “I was about to just show up on your doorstep anyway. He wouldn’t have kept us apart.” His voice turned sly and the door thudded again, “Did you at least read my letters?” There was a sound of heavy breathing and then Potter’s voice reemerged, slightly muffled and breathless, “Especially the ones towards the end when I finally realized why I wanted— _needed_ —you to respond, the ones where I explained _in detail_ how much better I would fuck you than your sniveling _husband_ , how I would make you bloody _scream_.”  
  
“Harry—Harry, stop,” Draco moaned.  
  
“No,” he retorted petulantly.  
  
There were footsteps in the hall and Viktor heard the sound of rustling panic as the two sprang apart. “Oh, Draco, there you are, dear.” It was Narcissa. “We were hoping to see you and Viktor before we left.” There was a bit of a frown in her voice when she added, “You know, it has been awhile since I’ve seen your other half, sweetheart. Where is he hiding?”  
  
Viktor could just bet Potter was seething over her ‘other half’ comment. He could practically see the fists shaking at his sides.  
  
Draco’s voice sounded winded but solid. “I was just looking for him myself, Mum.”  
  
Lucius was sneering. “I’m sure you were.” He sniffed and said in complete disdain, “Don’t you have somewhere to _be_ , Potter?”  
  
“I had something to discuss with your son, Malfoy,” he said coolly.  
  
Viktor could practically see the raised eyebrow. “And I trust, Draco, that said discussion is finished?”  
  
“Yes, father, it is,” Draco said smoothly.  
  
Potter snarled. “Actually, Draco, I still have something I want to say to you.”  
  
“I’m sure it can wait,” he retorted.  
  
Potter’s voice went hard. “It can’t.”  
  
Narcissa cleared her throat and offered, “We’ll leave the two of you to it then. Draco, we’ll be in the ballroom waiting for you and Viktor.”  
  
“Draco—”  
  
“This is hardly the place,” Draco hissed, “Go home, Potter.”  
  
Potter made a furious sound but he heard them both take off in opposite directions.  
  
Later, after he and Draco had bid their goodbyes to Lucius and Narcissa—Lucius seeming even more amiable towards him—he said with difficulty, “I can haff the papers drawn up by the morning if you vould like.”  
  
Draco had just crawled into bed with a yawn and Viktor watched in the mirror above his bureau as his whole body went stiff. “Papers?” he parroted blankly.  
  
“To divorce,” Viktor managed gruffly, carefully removing his cufflinks. His throat was like sandpaper and he had a bad taste in his mouth, “break the bond, however you vish to put it.”  
  
Draco looked shell-shocked. “I don’t want to put it any way,” he declared once he’d managed to get his mouth to produce sound. “Viktor, I don’t want to divorce you.”  
  
“Don’t you?” he challenged angrily. Draco could placate him all he liked but he couldn’t change what he had seen tonight. He had thought Draco had stayed because, while he still loved Potter, Potter did not love him in return but it was obvious from his display tonight that he more than felt the same for Draco. He threw down his tie angrily and said harshly, “Potter is not subtle in his displays.”  
  
Draco was shaking his head persistently in a bit of a daze and, as Viktor approached the bed, Draco pulled him down on it and breathed in his ear, “It’s you, Viktor. Just you.”  
  


♕

  
“I _love_ you,” Potter screeched and, even though Viktor hated him more fiercely than he’d thought himself capable, it scraped his heart raw to hear it.  
  
Draco looked exhausted, he had bags under his eyes and his voice was weak. “Harry,” he sighed, “I’ve never promised you anything.”  
  
“Yes, you did!” Potter sobbed. “The way you looked at me was a goddamn promise, Draco! What you told me was a goddamn promise! You think you can just get drunk and tell me you’ve loved me for years and not expect me to do something about it?” He was almost hysterical now and snot was running down his chin. “You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you that night but you pushed me away! Right after you told me that you would’ve done anything to have me!” Potter gestured to himself haphazardly. “Well, I’m giving you me on a silver platter.”  
  
“My husband—”  
  
“Sod your husband!” Potter cut across him angrily. “It’s not the same and you know it because you’re in love with _me_ , not your bloody husband!” He wiped at his chin and it wobbled a bit.  
  
“Potter, stop,” Draco started warningly.  
  
“No!” Potter shouted back. “You’re mine, Draco! You can’t just—You can’t say you never want to see me again. You can’t just bloody do that, not after _everything_!”  
  
Draco looked just as ripped apart as Potter but he held fast. “Harry, I’ve made my choice.”  
  
“Yeah, and it’s wrong,” Potter spat out petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not letting you go, I’ll be your bit on the side if I have to but I’m not going anywhere!”  
  
Draco stood authoritatively and said seriously, “Don’t come back here, Potter. I mean it.”  
  
“Draco, you can’t just _leave_!” Potter was screaming but Draco didn’t listen and pulled open the door to his office. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the glass as he collected himself. When he finally started moving again, his eyes opened to stare straight into Viktor’s. Draco startled and the tips of Viktor’s ears burned red at being caught eavesdropping but his face was nothing if not determined.  
  
Draco said nothing as he pushed off the door and walked down the hall with Viktor at his side.  
  


♕

  
Viktor didn’t know how Draco had done it, considering how persistent Potter had been, but there hadn’t been a whisper of him for months and Draco had been just as eager in bed as always. He sighed and closed his eyes; perhaps they were finally rid of him.  
  
A knock on their door only a few days later told him that no… no, they weren’t.  
  
It was the middle of the night and Potter was obviously out of his gourd with drink when Viktor appeased the bell. His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked a fright as he held a bottle of Firewhisky by the neck with one hand and pointed at him furiously with the other.  
  
“ _You_ ,” he accused, his voice positively trembling as he moved unsteadily forward. “You have no right! He’s supposed to be with _me_ ,” he shrieked. “He loves _me_! He knows that and I know that,” Potter snorted and swept an unsteady hand over in his direction, “hell, even _you_ know that! Let him go,” he demanded suddenly before turning maudlin and sniffing, “Why won’t you let him go? He’s supposed to be mine and you have no right!”  
  
His moods seemed to swing from one extreme to the next at the drop of a hat and Viktor had no desire to stand on his doorstep with his husband’s rejected lover and be berated. He said as calmly as he was able, “I offered to end our relationship, he refused it.”  
  
Potter looked gobsmacked and he stared up at Viktor with wide, wet eyes. “Why?” he croaked desolately. “ _Why_ would he do that? I know he loves me,” he bit his lip and half-threatened, half-demanded, “ _you_ know he loves _me_!”  
  
Viktor couldn’t help the sneer those words brought on. “Oh yes, Potter, I know,” he said cruelly. “Draco has never hidden his feeling for you from me. I alvays knew, long before I ever started this.”  
  
“Then why, _why_ did you marry him?” Potter demanded, swaying on his feet as he tried to make a sudden movement. “Why did you take him away so that both of you were sure to be miserable,” he lamented, staring down into the Firewhisky in his hand.  
  
Viktor crossed his arms over his chest and admitted heavily, “Because I luff him more than you ever could.”  
  
Potter’s laugh was like a bark. “Please!” he challenged. “You can’t even understand how deeply I feel for him. You will _never_ be able to understand it because you’re not meant for him like I am. You—You’re as bad as Voldemort,” he swiped at his nose roughly and nearly overbalanced, “keeping me away from the one thing that will make me happy, forcing him to stay with you.” His face was wretched when he looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks, and said, “You’re killing me as surely as he did.”  
  
The words stung excruciatingly and seemed to leave some sort of venom behind that made him feel weak and uncertain. He squared his shoulders against it and said firmly, “He chose me.”  
  
“Because you trapped him here!” Potter exploded. He pointed uncoordinatedly at himself and rattled off with watery eyes, “I’m the one he wants to be with, I’m the one he planned to have his future with, I’m the one he wants in his bed!” Viktor flinched as if struck and Potter laughed madly, needling, “He’s said my name, hasn’t he?” Viktor clenched his jaw and said nothing but Potter didn’t seem to need his confirmation. Instead of taunting him with it, as Viktor expected, he fell to his knees and looked up at him pathetically. “You _know_ , you know it’s supposed to be me!”  
  
Viktor didn’t know what to say to the broken man sitting on his welcome mat and staring up at him, his face shining with tears. He was spared having to say anything at all when Potter’s eyes lit up at something over his shoulder and he said in a tone close to reverence, “Draco.”  
  
Viktor turned to find his husband halfway down the stairs and staring at the two of them in shock. “Potter,” he choked in question.  
  
Potter crawled forward on his knees and pleaded, “One night, Draco. Just give me one night. I’ll do anything, please.” Potter looked half-crazed and Viktor wondered if this wouldn’t be him if Draco hadn’t… but it was best not to think of that. “I want you so much, my body _aches_ for your touch,” he mostly moaned out, licking his lips, “I don’t know what to do anymore, I just know that I can’t stop thinking about you.”  
  
“Potter—” Draco bit out, looking angry and flushed.  
  
“Just one night with you, Draco,” Potter said again, begging, “please? It’s all I think about and I get so hard it hurts but nothing helps and I just want _you_ so much I feel like I’m going to explode.”  
  
Draco’s fists were actually shaking with rage and his face was redder than Viktor had ever seen it. “How dare you say anything like that in front of my husband,” he reprimanded, voice trembling, “how dare you make him listen to this.” He made it all the way down the stairs and hefted Harry up by his armpit, growling in his face, “You need to leave.”  
  
Potter didn’t seem to be listening but he made a show of shaking his head. He grabbed onto Draco’s shirt and buried his face in his neck, admitting achingly, “I can’t lose you.”  
  
“I was never yours to lose,” Draco answered plainly.  
  
Potter’s eyes were tearing horribly. “Draco, please, I’ll die without you,” he whimpered.  
  
Draco’s eyes softened for a moment before he told him finitely, “I think you’re more resilient than you realize, Potter.”  
  


♕

  
Potter wasn’t wrong, Viktor thinks, as he lays in bed with a restraining arm around Draco’s middle and pretends not to see the way his stomach jumps away from the touch. He has trapped him here, in this house, in this marriage, in this life just as surely as he was trapped into servitude to You Know Who. He knows how seriously a Malfoy takes his debts and if he had truly wanted to see Draco free he would have dissolved their marriage himself. But, he supposes, perhaps he doesn’t love Draco enough to let him go. Though he finds that hard to believe as he’s practically suffocating in it.  
  
Draco is his caged bird—too elusive to allow him freedom because he would never return if Viktor signed their bond away—and though there’s a guilt that will always eat at him when looking between the bars, it would be so much worse to have to look at an empty cage. Besides, Draco’s beauty is just as evident even if he can never truly spread his wings.  
  
Viktor can see it as he watches his lover’s sleeping face, the reasons he stayed, and none of them is the one that matters. It is duty, gratitude and guilt that keep him at Viktor’s side—‘obligation’ as Potter so aptly named it—and Viktor is just desperate enough to have him not to care.  
  
In the morning, both of them will pretend not to see the letter with the shaky _Draco_ printed on it in Potter’s messy hand. They will pretend the same every day after as well and Viktor will not pick them up and marvel at how flowing and practiced— _elegant_ —the name has become over the years and he will not imagine that that’s likely because it is more familiar than Potter’s own now.  
  
He stares down at the white gold band that has doomed them all, amazed at how one small ring can trap three people in its center forever.  
  
But Draco was too early and Potter was too late and Viktor was never meant to be there at all.


End file.
